But the blood does not pour from my wounds for they do not exist on the surface.
The scars i possess are deeper, embedded in my soul.
The scars of a heart that beats merely to survive for it doesn’t know the passion of love, only the loneliness of pain and anguish.
A mind that does not dream but is forced to live in a bleak reality starving for the pleasures of fantasy.
Depression and self loathing embrace my every thought, which only infuriates my mind further for I know I am blessed.
And yet I still can’t shake this feeling, this mindset of overwhelming pressure as these walls close in around me suffocating my spirit.
Struggling powerlessly, attempting to control this ever changing situation called life.
Is my destiny written, scribed into the walls I’ve built around my heart?
Or have my delusions grounded me, and with a simple leap of faith, I could discover I can fly...